Chapter 35
I lie awake, waiting for Sandman to slip between my thighs and push into my weeping body. Like clockwork, my internal alarm had coaxed me to consciousness, my throbbing core hungrily anticipating its dick breakfast.
Every morning, he fucks me like it’s the last time he’ll ever fuck me—like a man on death row and my pussy is his last meal. His touch should make me sick to my stomach, but it doesn’t. God help me. Toxic is bad. Toxic is dangerous. But with him, toxic feels so damn good.
He’s a killer, the worst kind of human imaginable.
There’s no doubt in my mind that the fiery place awaits him in the afterlife.
Until then, he owns me—body and soul. Being with him is equivalent to being on a tugboat stranded in the middle of a raging hurricane.
I’m liable to get swept overboard at any moment, but my pussy doesn’t give a damn.
I kick the duvet down my legs, sighing contentedly when the cool air hits my lower region, still tender from yesterday’s sexcapades.
At times, he fucks me slow, gentle even, as if he’s making love to me.
Other times he fucks me like a rabid animal, pounding into me so hard and so deep I bleed a little. It’s confusing.
I peek over at his slack features, causing pain to shoot down my stiff arms. I’m handcuffed to the headboard, the same as every night, despite Mayhem and Harley keeping guard outside the bedroom door.
My wrists are chafed and sore, the metal digging into my soft skin.
This has been my life for the last week.
We fuck before the sun rises, fuck in the shower, fuck during his lunch break, fuck when he gets home in the evenings, fuck before we go to bed, and fuck in the middle of the night.
I’m not allowed to leave, not even to go to school, though I’m granted a daily phone call with my beloved grandmother.
I’ve only spoken to my mother once, letting her know I’d be staying with a friend for a while.
“I don’t care what you do. Just keep your mouth shut about Keith and me.
” With that order—and a few choice words about Redmond disappearing on her—she ended the call.
Redmond disappeared all right, but not in the way she thinks.
Whenever he’s gone or asleep, I’m left handcuffed to the bed. I’m truly a prisoner now, both mentally and physically. He wouldn’t even let me go home to pack any clothes. Instead, he went out and bought me all new things.
I peer at my captor again, my gaze roaming over his naked form.
He. Is. Glorious. Even in sleep, he emits a powerful aura.
His mussed strands lie in golden waves on the pillow behind him.
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, vividly recalling the feel of his silken mane between my fingers as his skillful tongue caressed my clit.
My gaze travels lower, lingering on his tattoos and mouthwatering six-pack.
Flashes of the smooth, taut skin bunching and shuddering as he pounded into me just a few hours ago surge through my mind.
But the crème de la crème is the male organ resting on his abdomen.
It’s huge, even in its dormant state. His dick should be categorized as a weapon of mass destruction because damn if it doesn’t make my insides explode.
My breath hitches when my captor begins to stir, and a heartbeat later, the reason for the soreness between my thighs grows to full length.
Sandman rolls to his side, hand instinctively seeking the heat at my center, though his eyes remain closed.
His fingers softly stroke my clit, and my body instantly answers, becoming hot and soaking wet.
I throw my head back and slam my eyes shut, swirling my hips in tandem with his stroking fingers. It’s amazing how this man can take me to the brink in seconds. I widen my legs as his fingers move faster. It’s coming. I feel it.
“Please,” I beg.
He pushes a thick finger into my pulsing pussy in answer, and then it happens. An explosion of raw ecstasy rushes through my core. My eyes fly open to his blazing blue orbs intently watching me as my slick walls clamp down on his finger.
I jerk against my restraints, my injured wrists completely forgotten.
When he makes my body sing, I can pretend he’s not a monster and I’m not the person he hates most in the world.
He moves between my thighs, his gaze still boring into me, and enters my body in one fluid thrust. I whimper, my pussy struggling to adjust to his girth. It hurts. It hurts so fucking good.
“Your pussy is always so fucking wet and so fucking tight,” he whispers in my ear, his muscular form lying flush against my pliant curves. “It almost makes me forget how much I loathe your fucking existence.”
“Uncuff me,” I moan, pulling against my bonds. His warm flesh feels amazing pressed against my own, golden silk over steel. I want to touch him. No, I need to touch him. “Please, Sandman.”
A tortured sound rumbles from his chest, then his full lips are on mine. In true fashion, he begins fucking me like there’s no tomorrow. I cross my ankles at the small of his back and roll my hips upward to meet his thrusts, my pussy becoming wetter for him.
Sandman groans, his tongue sweeping into my eager mouth as we feed off each other’s desperate energy.
The pressure builds, each hard thrust bringing me closer to orgasmic fulfillment.
He’s not just fucking my body, he’s fucking my soul, and it’s the sweetest agony.
I cry out, breathless and trembling, overwhelmed by the white-hot sensations throbbing in my pussy.
“Damn you,” he rasps, gripping the back of my knees and pinning my legs to the bed. “Damn you to hell.”
“You are my hell,” I moan, my lips brushing against his.
“And you’re mine,” Sandman whispers back, then he’s devouring my lips again.
I completely lose myself to him, to this man who hates every fiber of my being.
And he loses himself to me too. I turn my head, my lungs burning as I gasp for air.
He keeps his lips on me, placing open-mouthed kisses along my jawline and down my neck, sucking the space where my neck and shoulder meet into his strong mouth.
Seconds later, he groans his release, spilling his thick cum into my wet body.
I come too, milking every last drop he has to give.
After one last jolting thrust, he stills on top of me.
Once we float down from our climactic high, Sandman uncuffs me and leads me to the bathroom. I shuffle behind him, my steps uneven due to the ache between my legs. He flips on the bathroom light, and my breath catches at the reflection staring back at me in the mirror.
My mass of black curls is all over the place, the elastic hair tie lost sometime during the night; I’ve been sporting my natural look for two days now.
Hickeys mar the left side of my neck, matching the dark fingerprints on my hips.
My wrists look a mess and could do with some medical attention.
The evidence of his desire glistens on my thighs.
I’m a girl who has been thoroughly fucked.
I blink, my inspection halted by the sharp sound of the shower coming to life. Sandman takes hold of my hand and tugs me under the nearly scorching-hot water.
“Wash me,” he orders, his blue gaze glued on my face.
“Okay.” I grab his washcloth and bodywash off the shower rack.
The familiar spicy pine scent fills my nostrils as I wash his perfectly sculpted torso.
I thoroughly clean one arm and then the other, his intense gaze never wavering from my face.
Steam quickly fills the spacious bathroom, cloaking us in a dreamlike state.
Folding my bottom lip between my teeth, I sink to my knees.
His thighs, like the rest of him, are beautiful and toned.
I’m busy with my task, gliding the washcloth over a solidly built leg when something pokes me on the cheek.
My eyes widen seeing his erection a hairbreadth from my parted lips.
One week of fucking practically nonstop, and I’m still amazed by his stamina.
I’m not sure how much more my pussy can take.
“What the fuck you waiting for?” he questions me. “Suck it.”
I place the washcloth on the porcelain tub and wrap my fingers around the base of his erection, squeezing tightly.
Sandman hisses, curling his hands into fists at his sides.
I glance up at him from beneath my eyelashes and meet blue fire.
It’s said that the eyes are the windows to the soul and nothing could be truer.
I can see the longing for the girl he vowed to hate forever shining in his hooded gaze.
Keeping my eyes glued to his, I begin lightly kneading his heavy testicles, eliciting another hiss from him.
“Suck,” he orders, sounding more animal than man. “Now.”
I slowly shake my head before blowing on his slit. His face contorts into a mask of pure rapture as his eyes drift shut. Emboldened by his responses, I swirl my tongue around the bulbous tip.
In the blink of an eye, his large hands are knotted in my curls. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to play with your food?” he growls, forcing my head back to look at him. “Open your mouth and eat your breakfast like a good girl.”
The moment my lips part, he goes feral. I latch onto his thighs, anchoring myself as he relentlessly fucks my mouth. I can barely breathe, my jaw stretching painfully to accommodate him, but I’m not afraid. He may hurt me, maim me even, but he’d never kill me. Since I’m his favorite toy.
Tears slide down my cheeks, mixing with the saliva dripping from my chin.
Though my gag reflex has gotten better over the last week, I’m still no match for his above-average-sized dick.
Sandman moves closer, placing a foot between my splayed knees.
I instinctively tilt my hips forward, rubbing my pussy against his leg.
I moan, sending vibrations along his length.
“Again!” Sandman demands, surging between my lips faster.
I emit another throaty moan while clasping his full balls in a firm hold. That does the trick; his salty load overflows in my mouth, spilling down my chin.
Sandman takes a step back, slipping his dick from my mouth. Before I can inhale my next breath, the left side of my face is plastered against the tile wall with his semi-hard length pressing into my ass.
“You missed some,” he whispers, dragging a finger through the cum trickling down my chin and pushing it between my lips.
I coil my tongue around the long digit, sucking it clean as his now fully erect length enters my yielding pussy. My eyes flutter closed.
He snakes a hand around my throat, squeezing ever so lightly. I place my palms flat against the shower wall as his other hand seeks the heartbeat between my folds. Hot water cascades down our joined bodies, heightening the passion consuming me.
“Please,” I breathe when he doesn’t move.
“Please what?” he replies gruffly, softly stroking my clit.
“Please fuck me,” I answer unashamed.
Sandman withdraws until only the tip of his dick remains in my body before sinking back into my warm depths. We groan, caught in the whirlwind ecstasy consuming us both.
“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, tightening his hold around my neck.
“How am I dangerous?” I whisper.
He drops his forehead against my temple. “You make me weak.”
“Then let me go,” I say, my voice cracking the slightest bit.
“Not even if Hell froze over.” He rocks into me over and over again, stroking my insides with long, languid thrusts, pausing briefly when he reaches the hilt of me.
A firestorm of pleasure tilts me on my axis, spreading from my core to the tips of my polished toes. It grows to a fervent crescendo until unadulterated rapture buckles my knees. My lips part, a soundless scream surging from the core of me.
“Zilphia,” Sandman rasps, finding his own release.